Sixteen years,
Sixteen banners united over the field
Where the
good shepherd grieves.
Desperate men, desperate women divided,
Spreading their wings
'neath the falling leaves.
Fortune calls.
I stepped forth from the shadows, to the
marketplace,
Merchants and thieves, hungry for power, my last deal gone down.
She's
smelling sweet like the meadows where she was born,
On midsummer's eve, near the
tower.
The cold-blooded moon.
The captain waits above the celebration
Sending
his thoughts to a beloved maid
Whose ebony face is beyond communication.
The captain is
down but still believing that his love will be repaid.
They shaved her head.
She was
torn between Jupiter and Apollo.
A messenger arrived with a black nightingale.
I seen her
on the stairs and I couldn't help but follow,
Follow her down past the fountain where they
lifted her veil.
I stumbled to my feet.
I rode past destruction in the
ditches
With the stitches still mending 'neath a heart-shaped tattoo.
Renegade priests and
treacherous young witches
Were handing out the flowers that I'd given to you.
The
palace of mirrors
Where dog soldiers are reflected,
The endless road and the wailing of
chimes,
The empty rooms where her memory is protected,
Where the angels' voices whisper to
the souls of previous times.
She wakes him up
Forty-eight hours later, the sun is
breaking
Near broken chains, mountain laurel and rolling rocks.
She's begging to know what
measures he now will be taking.
He's pulling her down and she's clutching on to his long golden
locks.
Gentlemen, he said,
I don't need your organization, I've shined your
shoes,
I've moved your mountains and marked your cards
But Eden is burning, either brace
yourself for elimination
Or else your hearts must have the courage for the changing of the
guards.
Peace will come
With tranquility and splendor on the wheels of fire
But
will bring us no reward when her false idols fall
And cruel death surrenders with its pale
ghost retreating
Between the King and the Queen of Swords
